A False Pretence
by pussycatwithattitude
Summary: Adam Trueman is, presumably, coping with all that has happened. However, beneath the convincing façade he is still haunted with memories of the lake. Mainly Adam; hints of Adam/Jessica.


**A False Pretence**

He remained entangled within her web, the cotton texture absorbing him into her formidable grasp. Like a Black Widow Spider, her clutch was indestructible, yet it was not a husband that she had lost. It was a son. Their nine-month-old son, Harry. He could still smell him, the distinctive smell which was once in the crook of his neck; he could still see the eyes that would stare back up at him whilst craving the attention at three o'clock in the morning, and what's more, he could still remember the routine he would carry out from day to day life. He still lived in that routine.

The house was empty. It had been six months since Jessica had left, along with Lucas and Amelia to start their new lives in America. At first, the idea had angered him, to the pit of his stomach as it churned and bubbled like a boiling kettle. He would explode, in his mind his brain would be fuming, fighting the resistance to hit a wall; use his fists to reduce the feeling of anger inside him. Pain was the only anaesthetic to a broken heart. No one could understand, no one would allow themselves to wriggle into his life in fear of replacing the one woman he had ever loved. They all knew, that before he was the typical, clichéd man, still looking for love in the form of local bars and one night stands with women he had known for an hour or two, and now… Now he was in love. Love: caring for nurse that captured his eye, the nurse who pushed him away on countless occasions, yet he still fought to impress. The nurse who refused his help, despite his continued pretence, and the nurse who eventually accepted his proposal of marriage. Jessica. Jessica Trueman.

His head turned, his eyes straying from the wearing ceiling and to the digital alarm clock that sat on the table beside his bed - his, and Jessica's bed. He recalled the memories of their first night together in this house, the soft touch of her lips against his; how their skin had connected in a passionate embrace, before Harry had wailed from his new bedroom, the distant cries portraying his desire for attention. He remembered their laughter; he remembered how blissfully happy they were, all before the accident which haunted what should have been the happiest day of their lives. The clock read nine minutes past three, in the morning. He sighed, his eyes stinging with the memories of Harry. His only son had been lost to him, he had fallen deeper into the lake whilst he saved her. The guilt he still felt from that incident revolved, as a feeling in his stomach which resulted in the sickening taste of bile entering his throat. He swallowed, his eyes lumbered with salty tears as they threatened to fall. The doctor, however, was stubborn; determined not to allow them release. At this time, he should have been awakening with Jessica to go and comfort their young son, covet every moment in his life that they could create a mental photo album within their minds. Of course, Jessica had kept a physical album, and it lay downstairs in the living room, gathering dust in the drawers of his desk. He dared not to look, each photo resembled their former happiness. Even the photos in his office had to be discarded before he would physically break down in front of his friends and colleagues. Memories acted as a curse, a poison attempting to pull him down into the depths of depression and mourning over what he could no longer have.

He believed himself to be the typical male: macho, swaggering male who would not allow others to break down his convincing façade and see that he was falling apart. However clichéd it sounded, his heart would break whenever he recalled a memory of them together. He heard it, an unequivocally soul shattering noise as the outer regions of his heart shattered, piece by piece until there would be no wall protecting the vital organ in his chest. Whenever he stood outside on a coffee break, leaning against the wall and allowing the wind to blow his hair back and forth, he would remember their conversations. The conversation where he had offered his services as a bin man - he chuckled at the thought.

"_Anything you want. Money, friendship, support? To hell, even someone to just empty your bins. I'm here, that's all I'm saying. As a friend."_

He brought both his hands to the back of his head, resting upon them as he continued to stare at the pale coloured ceiling. He continued to remember… Every time he walked into work, whenever he decided that taking the car was tedious and he needed fresh air, he would remember all the times they walked together into work, hand in hand, blissfully happy in the embrace of the other with the thought they could return home after their shift to three, loving and adorned children. Children. The thought excruciated his mind, the memories haunting his mind unfairly, and would so for the rest of his life.

_The delicate smell of pasta and sauce stifled his nostrils, as he balanced from the cooking of dinner to the sound of his son wailing through the baby monitor which stood upright upon the dining table. It was a regular occurrence that he would be working until fairly late and Jessica would be at home with the children, however tonight the roles were reversed. Unable to slide out of the work with excuses, Jessica would be home in the early hours of the morning, leaving him to cook the dinner and prepare the children for bedtime. Despite his own sense of pessimism, Adam managed to cook their dinner without burning the majority, and by eight o'clock both Lucas and Amelia were tucked up in bed after demanding a story from their step-father, using the excuse that their mother usually did so. Harry had proven much easier to set to sleep, after a few minutes of focussed attention he had drifted into a peaceful slumber, leaving Adam to place him in the cot and venture downstairs to a bottle of wine. _

_Jessica arrived home early, opening the front door at eleven o'clock and joining her husband in the living room as he watched endless Top Gear repeats which he argued his case not to be deleted off the recorder._

_He looked up. "How was work?"_

_Delving into the protective arms of her husband, her head rested gently on the crook of his shoulder, the scent of Adam Trueman enough to send her into a state of dreamy confusion, more commonly known as love in her eyes. "Mmm," she sighed, contently. "If you define three blind drunk men, flirting inappropriately and throwing tantrums every two seconds a great Friday night, then yes, tonight was perfect." She looked up, as he did the same. Caution, and the protective devil in his eyes edging through. "It's just a shame this is all I have to come back to, eh?" She used the sarcastic tone in her voice, the edge causing her fiancé to smirk, his lips lowering down to connect firmly with her own. Jessica responded, her left hand reaching to take hold of his cheek and pull his head further down. The connection between them both was electric. They were a pair, like an enzyme and a substrate, neither could live without the other; they would only fit perfectly with each other. Should they fall apart, neither would be able to survive._

"_Jess?" Adam pulled away, turning Jessica in his arms and allowing her to be enveloped in their embrace. She murmured, a sign for Adam to continue speaking and that he had her attention. "Once you're my wife…" he paused, and could see a smile forming upon her lips. He held the pause for longer than anticipated, just to see her stifle and ponder over what he may say. "… How would you feel, about trying for another baby?"_

It had been four months since he had last seen Jessica, seven since they would have began trying for another child. He had been anticipating the arrival of a new baby; he had been looking forward to supporting his wife throughout her pregnancy; perhaps watching a daughter grow and take her through all of the critical stages in life: meeting the first boyfriend, teaching her to drive, buying her first alcoholic drink, but now those hopes and dreams had been shattered. Shattered with the death of their first child, since the car had skidded from the road and landed upon the ice… Slippery, cold, he could not bare to think of the water without shuddering and welcoming a tonne of goose bumps onto his skin.

His eyes moved from the ceiling, and onto his wardrobe. A t-shirt hung there, upon the door handle, rips and tears cursing through the fabric. "Old, Free and Single" read the t-shirt. The pretence of his happiness had lasted until he had arrived home, fuelled with alcohol and angry at the callous actions of his colleagues.

The clock now read six o'clock.

Adam Trueman arose from the bed, ready to start another day acting as the doctor who could cope. Taking the t-shirt within his hands, he threw it hastily into the bin before automatically checking his phone, thinking perhaps he may have a message or a missed call. Alas, he did not.

He doubted there ever would be another time in his life when the name "Jessica" would flash across his screen, or at least the same Jessica whom held his heart safely. There would never be another woman to capture his attention or his heart, the old cliché of "she's the only one" drifted throughout his mind, and he knew for the entire duration that it was true. There were no lies when he was pondering over the devotion and sincerity of his love for Jessica.

But now, she wasn't here. The spider had left the web, leaving him trapped within a firm state of love, devotion and hope.

* * *

**These characters belong to the BBC... Meh.**


End file.
